Chapter 5: Chaos At The Carnival
Beaming smiles welcomed visitors through the towering iron gates of the Silver Hills HalloWeek Carnival, where they were instantly greeted by a riot of sounds and a warm, intoxicating swirl of sweet and spicy scents. The air vibrated with the delighted yelps and high-pitched squeals of children dashing through the winding paths, clad in costumes of ghouls, ghosts, snarling monsters, and even caped superheroes. Behind them, weary adults gave chase, some with bemused smiles, others struggling to keep pace in the chaotic whirl of excitement.
As the sun began its slow descent, the late morning haze softened into the golden glow of afternoon. A gentle breeze stirred the air, teasing the edges of banners and streamers, while an almost magical glimmer flitted over the carnival's decor — a shimmer that went unnoticed amidst the bustle. The carnival grew livelier by the minute, the joyful cacophony swelling as more and more visitors poured through the gates, eager to join the revelry. Lines at the rides snaked longer and longer, while enthusiastic volunteers, their voices rising above the din, called out the final announcement for the pumpkin carving contest, urging eager participants to hurry.
Two adults wearing pirate hats herded a group of children dressed as pirates out of the sun
toward a cotton candy stand with a large awning over it.
"I want orange!"
"Pink for me, please."
"I want green, like the zombies."
"Purple!"
"I want the one that looks like candy corn."
"Okay little pirates, calm down, you'll all get what you want," said the woman, before turning to two teenagers in orange shirts manning the counter. "So, I need an orange, a pink…. You didn't by any chance get that did you?"
"Don't worry," said the young man, offering her a smile. "We've been at this all week, we're pretty good at it and prepared," he added, dropping his voice to whisper. He leaned back and called out, "Cora, we're being invaded by pirates and they're demanding cotton candy or they're going to make us walk the plank."
"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" said the girl who walked out with a large crate with different types of cotton candy neatly placed within. She held it out just beyond the counter so that it was within reach of the kids, who scrambled towards her and made their pick.
"Thank you," the mother said softly as she paid for it. "You're very welcome. But it's our job and we want them to have the best time."
She smiled and turned to watch her husband help the kids carefully unwrap the packaging. They eagerly pulled at their colourful acquisitions and stuffed them in their mouths. Wide grins slowly pinched into tight expressions as eyes narrowed and tongues stuck out.
"Yuck!"
"Mom, it's sour."
"Sour?" The mother squatted down beside her daughter and took a pinch of her candy corn-themed fluff. She winced as she put it in her mouth and coughed before looking up at the teens.
"It's really… cough… sour."
The teenagers' eyes widened and they shared a look. "I'll get you some water," said the boy as he ducked down and pulled out a case of water bottles.
"I'm really sorry about that," said Cora. "I don't know how that could have happened. We don't even stock sour sugar. We'll get you a fresh batch right away." As she ducked away she heard a faint giggle. She turned to look back at the children but none of them looked happy in the slightest.
"Cora, hurry up we need to replace these," the boy shouted as another woman approached them, dragging a crying child.
"What do you think you're serving children? Even an adult couldn't eat this," she screeched as she thrust a partially eaten stick of cotton candy at him.
"We're really sorry ma'am we don't know what happened. We've been serving the same thing all week, this is the first time this has happened. I'd be happy to replace it for you."
"And give my son something more disgusting? No, thank you! I want a refund."
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long golden shadows across the carnival grounds, the gates welcomed a new wave of visitors — older kids and teenagers. Among them was a group of teens who had opted to skip the costumes, their casual outfits standing out against the sea of vibrant, spooky attire. They meandered through the game area, moving with a relaxed, almost detached air. Laughter and playful banter accompanied their attempts at Skull Toss, where they hurled skull-shaped balls through a basket, followed by Pumpkin Bowling, the pins clattering noisily with each hit or miss. At the Web Walk, they carefully navigated a maze of tangled ropes, their expressions flickering between determination and amusement.
Their pace slowed as they neared an open space, where the buzz of excitement grew louder. Curious, they drifted toward the gathering crowd that encircled a wooden platform, elevated just enough to demand attention. The crowd, a mix of eager faces, was captivated and the curious teens pushed through to get a better view of what was going on.
"Gather round competitors we're about to begin our next round," a man dressed as a scarecrow called from the platform. In front of him were four wooden tables with a wide-rimmed wooden bucket on each of them. "Four of you will compete to try and attempt to get as many apples as you can within 30 seconds. The winner can pick a prize from a wide selection." The scarecrow continued gesturing to a stall stacked with different prizes. "But if you find the golden apple, win or lose, something special awaits. So come on up!"
The girl's eyes lit up and she dragged her companions towards the platform. "Come on guys, you know all of these games are rigged," the lankiest of the trio grumbled.
"Stop whining Lucas," said the girl who sported cropped dark hair with streaks of green. "Have you seen the prizes? They've got concert tickets."
"Yeah Luc, and how do you rig bobbing for apples? You just stick your head in there and grab one," said the last member of their group.
The crowd around them broke off into small groups as they discussed who was going to participate.
"You should do it Luc," said the girl, see for yourself that it's not rigged."
"Very funny, if anyone should do it, it's Travis, he's the football player."
"What does that have to do with bobbing for apples?"
"Guys come on, one of us has to do it before all the spots get taken."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. It doesn't matter if you participate or not, you're not going to win."
They turned to see another group of students from their school. At the very front was a brunet standing with his arms folded in front of his chest. "We're going to win this, including that special prize."
The girl stepped forward, "You? Are you really going to stick your head in a bucket Sam?"
"Obviously, I'm not going to do it. Brian here is an expert tough."
A wiry blond stepped up from behind him with a smirk on his face. Travis rolled his eyes and squeezed Regan's shoulder before walking toward the volunteer with the sign-in sheet. From the other side of the platform a tall, stout man followed after him. And a woman dressed as a farmer was right behind him.
"Get going you idiot," Sam hissed, shoving Brian forward. He scampered over, shoving another young man out of the way, and snagged the last spot.
The scarecrow got back up on the platform and called all of the competitors to their spaces and reminded them of the rules. "Alright, stand on your marks, hands behind your backs. Ready. Set .Bob"
All of the contestants dunked their heads into the buckets and sloshed around, pulling back with an apple in their mouths and dropping them in the basket at the side. As they ducked back in Brian pulled back with a loud yeowl.
"Ahhhh…."
The other competitors stopped as volunteers ran in asking him what happened. The blond pointed to the bucket as he backed away, clutching his nose.
"It…b…b..bit me," he screeched.
"Bit you?" said one of the volunteers as they stepped up to the bucket and peered in. "They're just apples, they don't bite."
"Stop wasting time Brian, get back in there," Sam yelled out.
"No way dude, I'm not sticking my head in there again."
The volunteer put their hand in the bucket pulled out an apple and examined it, then held it up for the scarecrow with a shrug.
The scarecrow turned to the other competitors and asked if they wanted to continue. They looked at each other and nodded. The scarecrow then declared that Brain was disqualified and that the competition would continue with the three of them. They reset the clock and began again.
"That was weird right?" Lucas whispered to Regan as they watched Brain march away with Sam and the rest of their group crowding behind him.
"It's Brian, he's a bigger drama queen than Sam," she whispered back before cheering loudly for Travis. She heard a faint giggle and paused, looking around her. That was not a sound Lucas would make but she didn't see anyone else around either.
"Gahh…"
She whipped around as the older man pushed away from the table, toppling his bucket as he stumbled backward, head completely drenched as he held an apple that was clinging to his nose.
"What the…."
Back at the Skull Toss booth, two preteens were racking up points as they shot the skulls into the basket with precision.
"Go Bobby! Go Rick!" a little girl wearing a pointed hat cried as she sat on her father's shoulders and watched them. "Oh," the wide grin gave way to a muffled sound as she clapped her hands over her mouth as she watched one of the skulls hit the rim and bounce back, hitting her brother in the head.
"Oops," she said with a giggle when it happened to the other one. And then again and again and again. "Daddy, what are they doing?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
"I don't know kiddo," he said, gently lifting her off his shoulders and pressing her into his partner's arms. "Boys…" he began as he took a step closer but the boys squeaked when the skulls jumped out of the bucket and pelted them, all on their own. They yelped and ran back to their parents shielding their heads as a helpless volunteer looked on.
As her parents hurried her away, the little girl looked back at the machine, volunteers scrambling around it, trying to get it to stop, and squinted when she thought she saw a shadow dart behind it.
A young couple leisurely strolled through the hay maze, hands firmly clasped in each other's. "Okay, you were right, these things are not as creepy as they are in the dark," said the girl with a bright smile.
"Yeah, imagine running into that thing in the dark," he said, nodding toward a tall scarecrow tucked into the corner of a turning.
"It's kinda goofy looking," she said with a giggle, looking up at the floppy arms, lopsided hat, and stitched-on face.
"Yeah, I guess. That thing isn't scaring anyone," he agreed as he tugged on her hand, pulling her down the path.
"With a snout like that, Goofy couldn't hold a candle to ya, lady."
They froze and quickly turned around but there was no one behind them.
"Who said that?" the boy demanded. "Who's following us?"
The only response he received was the gentle rustling of stray strands of hay. The girl tightened her hold on his arm and pulled him along. "Maybe it just carried over from another section," she suggested. He frowned and stared down the path they'd come from, but nodded all the same and allowed her to pull him along.
They continued, following the path through the walls of hay, twice running into a dead-end before they stumbled upon a scarecrow in the middle of a fork, holding a signboard with arrows pointing in both directions and scratchy writing saying, 'There is no right way to accomplish your goals, only left."
"Is that supposed to be funny?" the boy grumbled.
"At least it tells us how to get out of here," the girl replied with a shrug. They turned around the corner picking up their pace a little.
"It can't be helped if there's nothing funnier than your existence."
The boy whipped around, but all he saw was the still face of the pumpkin head the scarecrow sported, looking away from them. He turned around and grabbed the girl's hand pulling her forward.
"If you want a laugh, try looking in a mirror."
The voice was more distant now but this time he kept his eyes forward, his body tense as he sped toward the entrance. As the path opened up, he sighed and ran for the exit, relaxing only once they were out in the open once more.
"Finally! We got out of there."
"So what? You want an award or something?"
They stiffened. Then looked at each other before looking around the other way. There was no one there but them. The girl's eyes fell on the carved pumpkin sitting on a pedestal outside the exit to the maze.
"What are you looking at lady? Haven't you seen a pumpkin before?"
She gasped and took a step back, clutching the boy's arm as she stared at the pumpkin whose hollowed eyes now looked straight into her own. She slowly turned to the boy but he was staring wide-eyed at it
"Ahhh…"
A loud scream jolted the teens out of their stupor and heads snapped toward the source — across the maze, at the face-painting booth. There, a young boy sat on a small stool, halfway through getting his face painted. A woman, likely his mother, stood beside him, her eyes wide with shock, mouth agape in disbelief as she pointed frantically at him.
At first, everything seemed normal. The artist's paintbrush was still carefully tracing lines across the boy's cheek, but then the scene shifted. White paint, unnaturally vibrant, began creeping beyond his face. It slid down his neck, seeping under his T-shirt like liquid, spreading over his torso. In seconds, it ran along his bare arms, and then down his legs, slithering from beneath his shorts, marred only by jagged black zebra stripes that cut through the white.
The boy scrambled off his stool in a panic, his small hands raised in front of him, eyes wide with bewilderment as he stared at his own palms, now covered in paint. The artist, frozen mid-stroke, stared in disbelief, still clutching the dripping paintbrush, while the woman beside her darted her gaze between the boy and the painter, too stunned to speak.
The boy and girl watching from outside the maze shared another look as a crowd began surrounding the booth and the elder woman started yelling at the artist. The boy heard a giggle coming from behind him and simply tugged on the girl's hand and pulled her toward the exit.
The Carnival manager, a young man in his 30s was at a stall selling fantastical hats, straining to pull a magician's hat off the head of one of the customers, as the vendor, a portly, older man, looked on, his face pale and eyes staring at the scene before him.
"Get this off me," the customer snarled as he pushed the brim, while the manager pulled, but it was too tight and wouldn't move.
"Uh… Reece?"
"A little busy at the moment," the manager said to the volunteer who slid into the stall, his voice strained as he continued to pull.
"I can see that," the volunteer spoke slowly and hesitantly. "But we kinda need you at the House of Mirrors. It's well… you kinda have to see it."
"Just one…. second," he huffed as he made a forceful tug. The hat sprang free, releasing the man's head. The force, however, sent Reece stumbling back into a table stacked with hats. The customer took a deep breath and then another one before turning on the vendor, his cheeks turning red and eyes narrowing. Reece turned to the volunteer who was now staring at the man.
"Right. You deal with this I'm going to go to the House of Mirrors. Give him a freebie or something, don't let them get into a fistfight.".
He left the stunned volunteer and ran down the pathway, weaving through people and trying to avoid crashing into the various booths. "I know things get weird on Halloween but this is ridiculous," he grumbled. He reached the Hall of Mirrors just in time to see a family run out the main doors screaming.
"Okay. That's it." He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. "Hello…. Mr. Collins. You need to get down here right away. I don't know how to say this Sir, but something very strange is going on."
Thanks for reading.
Till next time...